


The Project

by Teaismycoffee



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: BDSM, BDSM goes badly, Dom Bucky Barnes, Dom Sam Wilson, Dom/sub, Explicit Consent, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Negotiation, Kissing, M/M, Minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Sub Bucky Barnes, thunderstorm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:27:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27082636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teaismycoffee/pseuds/Teaismycoffee
Summary: Bucky remembers liking BDSM before Hydra. He asks Sam to help him try some things out as an experiment. It goes spectacularly wrong until they decide to expand the parameters of the experiment. Steve is weird about the plan but not for the reason Sam thinks.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	The Project

**Author's Note:**

> This story is not sexually explicit but does describe the very beginning of oral sex in scene. 
> 
> Also, BDSM is mostly the frame for the story, this is not a BDSM-heavy story. In general all attempts at BDSM go poorly until the very end.

Sam was bored. Sam was so bored. It had been almost a month, just Sam, Steve and Bucky in a roomy old farm house in Nebraska, lying low while Natasha dropped in occasionally. It was the boredom, honestly, at least at first, that made Sam jump at whatever project Bucky needed help with.

“Yes. I will help you,” he said putting down his phone and sitting up straighter on the couch, not at all playing it cool,

It was hot in Nebraska in July and the farmhouse did not have air-conditioning. Steve had headed into the nearest town to buy groceries and, hopefully, another box fan to add to their growing collection.

Bucky looked at him wryly through the wisps of hair that had inevitably come loose from his messy bun and fallen in front of his eyes again, “You might want to wait and hear what I need help with first…”

“Okay. What is it you need help with?” he asked, squinting one eye and smiling up at Bucky.

Bucky sat next to Sam on the couch, so they were no longer making eye contact. He took a deep breath and let it out. Both his human hand and the artificial one rested on his knees. 

“I’m thinking about dating again… and I need help,” then, having done the hard part, turned to look at Sam again.

Sam sat up straighter, and hoped he didn’t look confused. “Huh,” he said, “I guess that was not what I was expecting. You know we are going to be stuck here a while longer, right? And it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to… I don’t know… pick-up the cashier at the gas station?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes and slouched back into the couch, “I know. But, I’m…I’m thinking about it again, for the first time since…”

“Defrosting?” Sam supplied. Bucky scowled at him but it was without malice.

“I want to figure some things out, thats all…before I try it for real.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam said stretching his arms and yawning, but not getting up off the couch. “You want me to show you how to use Tinder?” He was trying to figure out if he had feelings about Bucky dating. Then, he was trying to figure out why he was trying to figure out if he had feelings about Bucky dating. 

Bucky shook his head and spoke quieter than he before, “I remembered some of the things I used to like…I uh…I made a list. I need help…going through it.”

“Uh, huh,” Sam answered. His brain quickly cycled through what could possibly be on Bucky’s list. His facial expressions must have been telling because Bucky stood up suddenly.

“This doesn’t have to be weird. Look… I just need someone I trust to try some things out. You don’t have to be…into it at all.” He rubbed his stubble, eyes simultaneously wary and pleading. 

Sam shrugged, still not sure what they were talking about, and stuck out his hand, “Do you actually have a list?” 

Bucky dug into his pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper and handed it over. Sam unfolded the paper and took a look. 

“Jesus, Bucky!” Sam yelped in spite of himself. This first three on the list were “being tied up”, “slapping”, and “choking”. The list got more explicit as it went on. Sam felt a sound rising up in his throat that was half a laugh and half a curse. 

Bucky bit his lower lip, subconsciously telegraphing his anxiety. 

“We can just do the ones that…” Bucky said and glanced away from Sam and started over, “We don’t have to do the ones that require your… participation.” He stood a few feet away from Sam, turned partially away so Sam couldn’t see his expression. 

Sam did laugh then. Then he schooled his face. “Hang on. Sit,” he said seriously. And Bucky sat back down on the couch. “Okay,” Sam said, then took a couple of breaths, considering the situation. 

It had been awhile since Sam had dated anyone and even longer since Sam was in a relationship. Everything had come to a screeching halt when Sam had put his life on hold to go chasing after Bucky with Steve. Sam was gay, and while Steve was overly flirtatious and very physical with him, things between Sam and Steve never progressed beyond friends. Sam wasn’t sure if Steve was straight and not aware of the cues he was giving off to Sam constantly, or if Steve was interested and suppressing it because of internalized homophobia, or if it was something else entirely. Then, they’d found Bucky and everything changed anyway.

Sam and Bucky’s relationship was equally confusing and ambiguous but in completely different ways. Bucky relaxed pretty quickly around Sam in a way he still couldn’t around Steve, which meant that Bucky stuck close to Sam. Sam would have never admitted it but he liked Bucky a lot. Bucky could be charming like Steve, but the more disconcerting times were when he was quiet and open with Sam. 

Bucky waited without moving, eyes darting from Sam to the floor, back to Sam. 

“Okay,” Sam started again. He knew his heart rate must be elevated but he was doing his best to be calm about this. “This is not what I thought you were asking.”

Bucky nodded silently, still waiting. Sam leaned even further forward and put his elbows on his knees, his felt his t-shirt stuck to his back with sweat. 

“But, huh… yeah, okay. Yeah, I can do this. But all the stuff you’ve… I wouldn’t think… everyone is different and everyone responds to trauma in different ways…do you think, after everything you’ve been through, this is still going to do it for you?”

Bucky, looking at the floor again, snorted, “I have no idea… thats why…” He gestured toward Sam then the paper

“Oh, right.” Sam said lightly. Then added curiously, “Does Steve know?”

Sam could see Bucky’s smile through his hair hanging down in front of his face. “I asked Steve first.”

“You did not,” Sam said, “You did not give Steve apple-pie-and-fucking-baseball Rogers that list?” Although, honestly, as far as who Bucky could trust, Steve was at the top of that list.

Bucky met his eyes and Sam could tell he was trying hard to control his grin. “Nah, Just the first couple. He tried… he was gonna slap me…because it was what I wanted…but his big sad puppy-dog eyes just about broke my heart”, Bucky shrugged, “So I stopped him. Plus, Steve getting ready to sadly and earnestly slap me was about the least sexy thing I’ve ever seen.”

Sam laughed out loud. He had already made up his mind but still wanted to figure out the shape of this thing. He asked softly, “Did Steve know you were into this… before?” ‘Before’ was their frequent shorthand. It meant ‘before Bucky was captured’, ‘before the enhancements’ and often, ‘before the war’. 

“Nah,” Bucky said, “I mostly figured it out after I shipped out. After Steve rescued me…I wasn’t with my unit anymore. The guy…the guy that helped me figure this out…” He blushed and ducked his head, “Fuck…I can’t remember his name… I can remember the way his hands felt on me…but I tried… and it’s gone.”

Sam nodded and reached his hand up and clapped it gently on Bucky’s shoulder. Sam meant it to be comforting, but the way Bucky jumped and tensed, then relaxed, Sam wondered if Bucky was interpreting it differently. He left his hand resting there longer than he usually would and felt Bucky’s breathing hitch, which both made his stomach flip and made him realize he wasn’t completely sure what he was getting into. He pulled his hand away and took a breath so his voice would be level. 

“Okay,” Sam started, “We’re gonna do this. I’m going to help you figure this out, but I’m going to do some reading first, okay?”

Bucky nodded.

“I need to know what I’m doing. I…want to be sure I’m doing it right. I’m not just going to…you know…hit you.” 

Bucky laughed at that. He said softly, “All those time you really tried to hit me, and now I’m politely asking…and you’re being cautious about it.”

“I’m going to hit you,” Sam said, aiming for sounding annoyed but instead sounding slightly breathless. As soon as the words left his mouth he could picture it, slapping Bucky, and adrenaline shot through his system. 

Bucky definitely caught it, and looked up at him, and Sam could see that Bucky could see that Sam was affected. “Okay,” Bucky said standing up, but still holding Sam’s gaze, “Good. Do your reading then.” 

“I’m going to,” Sam said, trying to retake control of the conversation.

Bucky gave him a small knowing smile and headed out of the room but when he was almost to the doorway Sam said slowly, “Just so you know, Barnes, I’m all for the ones that involve you sucking my dick.” He hadn’t decided if that was true or not yet when he said it. His intent was just to make Bucky stumble, but of course it had the opposite effect. 

When Bucky turned he had a toothy grin. He tilted his head to the side and looked Sam and dragged his eyes up Sam’s body. “Yeah. I figured,” he said, “Thats why I gave you the full list. I’ve seen you looking at my mouth.” And then he left the room.

And, fuck, he knew that was true. He did look at Bucky’s mouth. 

In the silence of the room Sam could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. His skin felt too hot, in addition to the regular “too hot” from the miserable weather. He had felt completely in control of the situation, right up until the end, right up until Bucky had firmly demonstrated that he was not in control of this at all.

And that was how researching BDSM became Sam’s new project.

——

Steve got back about an hour later with groceries. He popped into the living room and deposited a new box fan in front of Sam. Sam pulled himself up off the couch finally. “You need help putting away groceries?” he asked.

“Sure,” Steve grinned at him. 

Sam envied him the two hours he had spent in the car’s air-conditioning and his obviously not-sweat-soaked through T-shirt and jeans. 

When Bucky had left the room, Sam hadn’t seen him again until right then. He was leaning over the sink eating a dripping orange popsicle. Sam wondered for a second if things were going to be weird. 

“Oh, want a popsicle, Sam?” Steve asked, “They are a little melty right now.” Steve tilted his head toward Bucky at the sink. 

Bucky just gave Sam the same toothy grin he had before and licked the full length of the popsicle while looking at Sam, then gave a little breathy sigh. 

And yeah, it should have been weird, but instead Sam laughed, and just like that all the tension was gone, because Bucky was still just Bucky. “You, are an asshole,” Sam told him, warmly. 

Bucky smiled just as warmly back.

“Stop bickering and help me put the groceries away,” Steve said in a resigned voice. Then, more hopefully, Steve asked, “I bought the stuff to make lasagna. Sam, could you…?”

“No. No way man, it is like 100 degrees in here. I’m NOT making lasagne tonight. We are not turning on the oven,” Sam said with finality that Steve knew better than to argue with. 

Sam was the best cook out of the three of them, so he ended up cooking dinner almost every night. He didn’t mind, most of the time, really, because it meant Steve and Bucky did the dishes. Except he did mind a little when the kitchen was unbearably hot and dinner meant standing over a stove or running the oven. Bucky, it turned out, liked doing laundry and loved vacuuming. Steve, on the other hand, was not really into any housework particularly, but did like to be constantly busy. That meant he was good for errands and mowing the grass around the farm house, and had started doing maintenance tasks he’d found, even though that was definitely not a requirement of their rental agreement. 

Sam ended up accessing what Steve had bought and made chicken fajitas for dinner. Afterwards, the three of them ended up sprawled in the living room again. It didn’t have a TV, but it did have a big couch that was by far the most comfortable place to sit in the house. All three of them could have fit on it, if they could stand to have their skin touching right then. As it was, Sam was sprawled out on the couch (because he’d gotten to it first, as he was not on dish duty), and Bucky was in a rocking chair reading a paperback he’d found in the house, with Steve sprawled out on the floor, between them, eyes shut, in front of the fan. Some nights they were more productive, but the weather had sapped all of their energy. 

Sam had started researching in earnest then. The website he’d found on his phone wasn’t “Domming For Beginners” but it might have well been. The more he read, the more things he realized he needed to look up. 

“What are you reading about, Sam?” Steve asked lazily, finally opening his eyes.

Sam glanced up at Bucky who looked thoughtful for a moment and then answered for him. “He’s going to help me out…you know…with what I talked to you about earlier. He’s reading up on it,” Bucky told him plainly. 

Steve’s whole body stiffened and he sat up onto his elbows and looked at Sam. Sam could see emotions warring on his face and finally he said, “Oh.” And nodded his head at Sam, “I didn’t think about doing research…I guess that means you are the right man for the job.” He gave Sam a weak but sincere smile then pushed himself up all the way to sitting.

“Stevie, your huge shoulders are blocking the fan,” Bucky pointed out having gone back to reading his book.

“I….” Steve started, “I… actually, I’m going to go get a drink.” And he left the room.

Bucky did look up then, eyes asking a question. Sam answered it softly, “Hey. Listen, the more I read, the more I realize I there is a lot more about this I need to understand. You’ve got to give me some time.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but nodded. 

“Also,” Sam added quietly, “some of the stuff on the list are just ‘no’s’.” Bucky looked like he was going to object but Sam continued, “And, you know, some of the things… like…we don’t have access to a ‘tied up Nazi to watch.’”

Bucky smiled to himself, like he was remembering.

And then it occurred to Sam to google “exhibitionism.” 

——

All three of them studiously avoided the subject for the rest of the evening, although when Bucky went to bed, Steve waited until he heard Bucky’s door shut upstairs and set his phone down.

“Sam. Can we talk about this, for a minute, and they we don’t have to talk about it again?” Steve ran his hand through his hair and got off the floor and moved to the rocker Bucky had been sitting in. Sam wasn’t sure whether it was to bring himself up to Sam’s eye level for the conversation or because it was where Bucky had just been sitting. 

Sam set his phone down and sat up. Sam had known Steve long enough to know that his casualness was schooled and that he was trying to not sound confrontational. 

They looked at each other for a moment before Steve continued, “Can you tell me why you are doing this?”

Sam immediately discarded “possibility of blow-jobs” as an answer, it would have made Bucky laugh but definitely not what he should say to Steve. Sam thought about it for a minute. “Listen, Bucky has had so much…” he stopped, he didn’t need to tell Steve what Bucky had lost and jumped ahead, “We all deserve bodily autonomy. After everything he’s been through, Bucky deserves it most of all. He’s piecing himself back together. He needs help with this …and I can help him.” 

This time it was Sam’s turn to look for verification in Steve’s face but Steve still looked unsure so Sam added, “I would do just about anything you asked me to, Steve. That is where you and I are. That is why I don’t have my job or my apartment and I haven’t seen my ma in a year. It is why we are here, stuck in Nebraska. At some point here, I guess, that got extended to Bucky… and he asked me to.”

Steve nodded, then glanced down and smiled softly, “I just don’t want you to hurt him.”

Sam nodded and sighed, “Either hurting him won’t be hurting him…or I’m not going to do it. You know that, right?”

Steve leaned forward putting his elbows on his knees. He let out the breath he’d been holding. “Yeah, okay. There isn’t anyone else in the world I would trust him with, but I do trust him with you”

Sam knew Steve was saying more with that than just that he would let the topic go, but he didn’t care to investigate it right then. Instead he just pushed himself up and walked the few steps to Steve and stuck out his hand for Steve to take and pulled him up too.

“Don’t worry Steve. Really. Worry about rogue Hydra. Worry about Stark. Worry about how damn hot it is in Nebraska. Let me worry about this,” He told him, and slapped him on the upper arm, turning it into a half hug. 

Steve relaxed even more and gave Sam his sad smile. “I’m so glad you are here, Sam.”

Sam thought about adding that he should be because without him, Steve and Bucky would be subsisting on ramen and cereal, but opted instead to just smile back.

——

The next day whenever Sam wasn’t reading on his phone, Bucky was by his side, offering to help with whatever he was doing. Sam realized pretty quickly Bucky was trying to speed the research along. 

Sam was sitting at the big wooden kitchen table while Bucky next to him peeled and sliced vegetables in his white undershirt and his hair up in a loose bun. Sam asked him questions while he worked. 

“Shame kink?” Sam asked but before Bucky could answer, Sam said ,”You know what? Doesn’t matter. I’m not doing that one.” 

“Praise kink?” Sam asked.

“What’s that?” Bucky quirked an eyebrow while continuing to peel.

“Um,” Sam began, “You know, it’s like…whose a good boy… whose a good boy?” Then, realizing he was using his dog voice, “No! Wait.” But it was too late. 

Bucky snorted. 

“I’m gonna practice that,” Sam said, only a little embarrassed. 

Ten minutes later Sam was at the stove heating up leftover soup, to go with the salad Bucky had just made. Bucky, beside him, leaned against the counter. 

“Safe word?” Sam asked.

“How about ‘stop’?” Bucky said wryly. 

“Works for me,” Sam said. But then he thought about it and about the times he’d seen Bucky dissociate and realized that wasn’t going to work if Bucky blanked out. Sam frowned and stopped stirring. Worse, sometimes when Bucky disassociated he became overly compliant. 

“‘Stop’ is good,” Sam clarified, “but I think we need a ‘everything is good’ safe word too.”

Bucky looked at him skeptically but Sam explained his reasoning and Bucky agreed. They settled on “milkshake”. Bucky had had his first milkshake when they’d returned to the US from Germany. He was a fan of milkshakes.

The more they talked about it, the more questions Bucky answered and blanks Sam filled in through reading, the stranger Sam felt. Sam was looking forward to it and apprehensive in equal measure. He was beginning to get a clearer picture of what he had agreed to do. His stomach was doing weird flips again.

Then, on a whim, Sam said, “Hey. Do me a favor. Stir the soup for a minute,” and handed the spoon to Bucky. Bucky stepped into Sam’s spot and started stirring. Sam didn’t step away though, he stood just behind Bucky’s left shoulder. He saw Bucky glance back at him.

Sam leaned closer to Bucky’s ear and in a voice softer and throatier than he would normally use he said, “Thats good, Bucky. You are doing such a good job for me, stirring that soup.”

Bucky’s cheeks turned dark pink and he stopped stirring. “What the actual fuck are you doing?” he asked. 

Sam didn’t answer but stayed pressed close to Bucky, without touching, tipping his head to one side to try to get a better read on his reaction.

Bucky whipped around to face Sam and squinted a little, holding the spoon menacingly inches from Sam’s face, “Praise?” he asked.

Sam nodded, aware of the spoon, “What do you think?” 

“I think I might like it if it wasn’t about stirring soup,” he said, still blushing. Then he gently tapped Sam on the nose with the spoon.

Sam, flustered, took a step back. “Did that just get weird?” he asked.

Bucky shrugged, turned around and gave the soup another stir. 

Sam let out a long breath and shook his head to clear it. “How about turkey sandwiches and call it good?” he asked Bucky’s back. 

“Sounds milkshake to me,” Bucky answered. 

While the farmhouse they were renting was surrounded for thousands of acres on all sides by industrially-farmed fields, there was an acre and a half attached to the house that included the mowed lawn, an overgrown field that Sam decided the owner must mow at least once a year, a row of huge gnarled lilac bushes, and an orchard that probably hadn’t been pruned during Sam’s life time way at the back. Sam found Steve in the orchard, half-hidden in the tall-grass, sprawled out under an apple tree, sketching the dead tree next to it.

“Lunchtime, Picaso,” he said, nudging Steve’s shoe with his foot. He wondered if he needed to warn Steve to check himself for ticks. He wondered if super-soldiers could get Lyme disease. The heat and the lulling sound of cicadas made Sam want to slide down next to him and shut his eyes for a few minutes. Instead he stuck his hand down to pull Steve up.

On the walk back to the house Steve told Sam that he’d been texting Nat and she was picking him up the following day, that she could use Captain America’s (or at least Steve Roger’s) help on a mission. This wouldn’t be the first time Steve had disappeared for a few days with Nat, reappearing a few days letter, bruised and tired, with harrowing stories. Sam always stayed with Bucky. Sam and Bucky’s sleepless nights worrying about Steve while he was gone were worth the good nights of sleep Steve had, at least for awhile, once he returned. 

Steve wasn’t handling down time well. 

“Uh, Sam,” he asked in a small voice just before they reached the back porch, “can you and Bucky wait until I’m gone tomorrow to…you know?”

Sam did know, but he wasn’t sure Steve knew. Or maybe, Steve knew exactly and it was Sam that was unclear. 

——

The next morning Bucky drove all three of them the 45 minutes to rendezvous spot to meet Natasha. Steve had exact coordinates and it only took a couple of turns on dirt roads and one farm access road to find the quinjet set down in a fallow field between a tree line and a disused grain silo. 

Sam did his best to keep up the small talk on the way but Steve wasn’t talking much even though he was buzzing with the energy he carried with him into missions. Bucky was silent concentrating on the road. After awhile Sam gave up and put on music and they rode in silence. At least it was cool in the air conditioning.

Steve hugged both Sam and Bucky goodbye, and told them not to worry and that he’d text. The plan was to pick Steve back up in the same location in 24 hours. Steve smiled at both of them and it was a genuine smile, even if it was smaller than usual. Nat kissed Sam on the cheek and gave Bucky a nod, and that was it. Steve and Nat were taking off and Bucky and Sam were standing alone in a field with the pick-up truck. 

It was sweltering hot again, but the air was heavier than the day before. The pressure had changed, and even though the huge sky was brilliant blue, Sam could feel that a front was coming. Sam stood, staring at the spot the quinjet had been, a moment longer. He startled when Bucky started the truck behind him. 

The goodbye had been so brief the truck cab had stayed cool. Now that he and Bucky were alone, Sam felt like the tension had shifted from anxiety about Steve leaving to something else. Bucky drove with a practiced relaxed posture, his body gave away nothing of what he was feeling or thinking. Sam was staring at him and he knew Bucky was certainly aware of it. 

“What?” Bucky finally asked, breaking the silence, 

“How much do you think Steve leaving was for the usual reasons and how much was, you know…?” Sam asked.

Sam was suddenly very aware of Bucky’s body in the cab of the truck next to him, in a way he hadn’t been since the very beginning when he couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky kicking him off the helicarrier and throwing him across the room by his face. This wasn’t fear but there was definitely apprehension in the mix

Bucky raised his eyebrows.

“How much was it…me helping you…figure things out?” Sam asked. 

Bucky laughed and looked over at Sam, his eyes widening a little, “Oh, shit. You can’t even say it now? Yesterday you were asking me about orgasm control and now it’s ‘figure things out’?” 

That was true. But yesterday it had been academic. Right now it was feeling very real and impending.

Bucky looked back at the road, and his voice got softer, “Doesn’t have to be weird. Think about it like sparring. We’re fighting, our bodies are…going through the motions, but we aren’t really trying to hurt each other…uh, our hearts aren’t in it…”

Sam snorted, “When we are sparring, I’m definitely trying to hurt you. My heart is in it.”

Bucky didn’t let himself be derailed, “Okay, fine. But you spar with Steve and you don’t want to hurt him. You’re …I don’t know…helping him practice.” He gestured with his hands in a sort of shrug. “This is exactly like sparring… only I may or may not get off on it.” 

“Sometimes I think you are getting off on it when we are sparring,” Sam quipped, intending it to return the conversation to more comfortable grounds of mutual verbal jabs. 

Bucky just looked at him like he was waiting for Sam to catch up. 

“Oh,” Sam said finally, realizing what Bucky was getting at. Sparring involved close contact and pain. Bucky might be turned on by sparring. “Right.”

Sam tried not to think about the last time he and Bucky had sparred in the backyard behind the farmhouse in the beating sun, with birds chirping. He knew that Bucky had been holding back, but they still both ended up bruised and their clothes covered with grass stains. He remembered Bucky’s eyes sparkling and his own exhilaration and Bucky’s skin sliding across his and sticking as they tried to pin the other.

Sam desperately wanted this back into the safety of the “experiment” category and out of whatever it was drifting into in his head right now so he took a sharp turn with the conversation. “You know who would be good at domming, I bet,” he said “Nat.”

Darkness flashed across Bucky’s face so quickly that Sam would have missed it if he wasn’t looking right at him.

“What?” Sam asked quickly.

Bucky didn’t say anything, just stared straight ahead, shoulders just as studiously relaxed as before.

“Bucky,” Sam said more sharply than he intended.

“I…” Bucky stopped and started again, “I don’t think I knew her, before… I mean, other than…shooting her that one time… I don’t think we were ever in the same place… same facility.”

Sam just waited, although he could already feel cold shooting through him. It wasn’t the air-conditioning. 

“But, I was around other agents like her, when they were being trained…they were young. Nat would be good at it. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t ever ask her,” Bucky spoke very calmly but Sam saw him intentionally loosen his grip on the steering wheel and that one gesture was telling enough.

Sam wanted to argue that Nat could damn well make up her own mind. She had had to fight to reclaim her bodily autonomy almost as much as Bucky had and she didn’t need Bucky to protect her from options, but what did Sam know. He knew nothing. She and Bucky understood each other in ways Sam could only guess at from the outside. He sat quietly and tried to ignore the ice in his veins and emptiness that had just opened up in the pit of his stomach. 

Bucky glanced over and said, in a lighter tone, “I never heard ‘domming’ before this. That’s new word for me.”

“What did you and your soldier call it?” Sam exhaled and asked curiously, grateful for the change of topic.

Bucky laughed, “I mean, I don’t remember a lot but… I don’t think we called it anything.”

“Huh,” Sam replied, thinking about it. “How did it come up then?”

Bucky thought about it for a moment, staring off into the corn fields out the windshield. “I think we were kissing and he pulled my hair. It wasn’t long back then…” he ran his hand over his much-longer-now hair up in a bun, “but he pulled it. I think…I was being smart about something…and I liked it…and he liked that I liked it. We figured it out from there.”

And then from emptiness back to panic as Sam realized that of all the things that he’d asked Bucky about when they were going through checklists and discussing things clinically, he’d not asked about kissing. He wasn’t sure kissing was an option with this type of experiment. And even though he was only pretty sure that actual kissing would slide this back out of scientific experiment territory and into something more nebulous to define, he knew with certainty that just asking Bucky about kissing in that moment, would push things into that dangerous territory he was trying to avoid. 

Sam let out a breath and said nothing but his face had telegraphed something because Bucky held his gaze and Sam felt like Bucky was reading everything going on in his head as clearly as if he was saying it out loud. Bucky could easily have broken the tension by making a joke or an innuendo or even changing the subject, but instead he held eye contact and bit his lip, then slowly gave Sam a toothy grin.

And then Sam understood the extent to which Bucky had just controlled that entire conversation and dragged Sam back and forth from comfortable ground into scary depths and back, only to deposit him on edge, slightly breathless, and thinking about kissing to finish the ride back in. 

Sam was going to be a terrible dom. Sam was way out of his depth. Sam realized Steve had been wise to leave. If Sam had better self preservation instincts, Sam would have gotten on that quinjet with him.

“Sam,” Bucky said, without looking over, “put some music on.” 

And Sam did. 

——

Sam actually pulled himself back together before they reached home. He told Bucky he was going for a run, then they were going to eat lunch, then they would start. Bucky told him he was an idiot because it was 92 degrees out and so humid that Sam should wear swim trunks, but Sam knew he needed to burn off some energy just to calm his brain down. In the end Bucky ran with him and carried two water bottles. They only made it a mile and a half before Sam realized it was a bad idea and two miles before Sam agreed to turn around and only part way back before they switched to walking. Sam drank all of one bottle of water and half of the other. 

After a cool shower and dry clothes, Sam did feel calmer. He got out of his room to find Bucky had already showered, changed and was making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Bucky had all of his hair down and it was leaving wet trails where it dragged on his t-shirt. He’d brought in the fan from the living room and had it on full blast moving air through the room.

“This okay? Thought it would be easy,” Bucky shrugged toward the sandwiches.

“In a hurry?” Sam asked, smiling a little now that he’d regained his equilibrium.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, grinning back, dumping a handful of chips on a plate next to a sandwich and sliding it across the table with it stopping just in front of Sam.

“Show-off,” Sam mumbled, picking up his sandwich.

“Yep,” Bucky said with a mouthful of peanut better and jelly.

Bucky stayed cocky right up until Sam pressed his shoulders and pushed him down to his knees.

They decided on Sam’s room because the living room felt too exposed and Sam’s room had a soft rug on the floor and an overstuffed chair, instead of just a bed and dresser like Bucky’s. Sam had the two windows open and the fan on but it was on the second floor and oppressively hot. 

Sam stood looking down at him. “You drank water, right? After we got back from the run?” He asked, double checking.

Bucky rolled his eyes and scowled, “yes.”

“Good,” Sam said, “Take off your shirt.”

Bucky startled a little. Then took a deep breath and pulled his shirt off over his head. Sam could explain that he wanted to see more of Bucky’s body, to be able to have as many clues as possible to figure out what was working and what wasn’t. This was part of the experiment. But based on Bucky’s reaction, Sam wasn’t sure that was where Bucky’s head had gone, which was fine. Sam was good with Bucky being the one off balance for once.

Bucky tossed his shirt aside and let his arms hang down at his sides. He rolled his shoulders back and stretched his neck like he was warming up for a workout.

“You nervous?” Sam asked, quieter, looking down into Bucky’s eyes.

Bucky had his head tilted back to look up at him. ”Yeah,” he voiced horsely, then tried again, “We coulda just done this two days ago…easy peasy…now it’s… a whole thing.”

Sam pulled the chair forward so it was right in front of where Bucky was kneeling and sat down. Bucky still had to look up at him but he didn’t have to strain his neck to do it.

Sam gave him a soft smile and tried to sound as reassuring as possible, “You say stop I stop… actually, if you say wait, or hold-on, or slow-up, I’ll stop. Actually, if you make a weird face…”

The momentary unease had drained back out of Bucky’s eyes and he said equally as softly but more playfully than Sam’s earnest reassurance, “I can always break your arm with one hand and make you stop.”

“Yeah, that,” Sam added, “so, nothing to worry about. Although, to be honest, I’d prefer you just say stop.” Sam smiled. “So we’re good?”

Bucky nodded. 

“Okay,” Sam said, “I’m going to touch you. Come here.” But instead of Bucky moving, Sam scooted forward and opened his legs so his knees were on either side of Bucky’s waist, almost, but not quite touching him. He heard Bucky’s quick intake of breath and felt the heat radiating off his body. Sam reached up and ran his hand fingers through Bucky’s hair, gently along his scalp. He did it a few more times until Bucky’s breathing returned to a more normal speed. 

Sam was shocked how quickly the world shrank down to just him and Bucky. That was it, just them. He was less surprised that he felt himself getting hard. 

Sam ran the back of his hand across Bucky’s cheek. Bucky shut his eyes. He had touched Bucky like this, a couple times before, when Bucky’d woken up from nightmares screaming and Steve had been out of the house. He’d stroked Bucky’s hair and his wiped tears off his face. 

Bucky leaned into his touch. 

Sam gently dug his fingers into Bucky’s hair at the base of his skull tilted his head back a little. He held Bucky still. He could feel Bucky let himself relax and let Sam support his head. Sam ran the fingertips of his other hand down up and down Bucky’s neck, gently. 

And, fuck, Sam could hear his own breathing speeding up. The air was so heavy he could feel it moving into and out of his lungs. Sam took a moment to catch his breath and let his hand rest on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky’s eyes opened and met Sam’s. Bucky’s eyes were clear and searching. Sam knew it was probably bad that he was already more affected than Bucky was. 

Sam swallowed and didn’t want to speak out loud but made himself say, “I’m going to pull your hair, okay?” His voice sounded thick and slow to his own ears.

He tugged gently at first, at the fist of hair he was holding at the back of Bucky’s head. Bucky didn’t shut his eyes, just watched Sam’s eyes. Sam tugged harder, hard enough to tip Bucky’s back and he did shut his eyes then, but it wasn’t the way he’d done it before. Sam loosened his grip and went back to just holding his hair.

“No good, huh?” Sam asked, voice was steadier. Bucky didn’t answer just looked at him with sad eyes. 

“Thats okay. We got this,” Sam said, and went back to gently stroking Bucky’s hair. 

Then after a minute he told Bucky, “I’m going to tap your cheek, okay, I won’t slap you yet, just trying it okay?” 

Bucky nodded and sat up straighter. 

Sam left his hand in Bucky’s hair cradling his head. He was having trouble reading Bucky’s reactions, except that he could tell that Bucky liked Sam’s hands in his hair. 

Sam tapped his finger tips against Bucky’s left cheek, not hard but hard enough it would have made Sam flinch. Bucky didn’t move just blinked up at him. “Okay. You have to say the thing this time, if you want me to do it,” Sam said softly, trying hard to be calm for Bucky’s sake. 

He’d punched Bucky, hard, lots of times. This was one slap, he could do this.

Bucky looked up at him with pleading eyes and said “milkshake” which tightened something up inside Sam’s gut and sent a jolt through his body. His skin was too hot and he felt lightheaded. He slapped Bucky across the face as hard as he could.

Bucky sucked in a breath and as far as Sam could tell didn’t let it back out. His entire body had tensed. 

Sam dropped Bucky’s hair and cupped Bucky’s chin with both hands. His eyes were unfocused. The warm, close, floaty feeling Sam had left him and he tried not to panic. He slid down to his knees in front of Bucky. “Bucky. Look at me. Look at me.” Bucky had held his breath until he’d passed out before. Sam had to bring him out of this as quickly as possible.

Then, before Sam had a chance to do anything else, Bucky took a breath and threw up all over Sam’s shirt. 

Bucky blinked a couple of times and his eyes came into focus. “Sam,” he said horsely, reaching out but not touching him, and then dropped down on to the floor.

——

Sam had cleaned off Bucky’s mouth with his discarded shirt then pulled his own shirt off and dropped it onto the rug that would also have to be cleaned at some point. Sam helped him down the hall into his own room. He set him gently on the wood floor in front of the fan, turned on low this time. Bucky pulled his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around his legs. He still wasn’t speaking, but that wasn’t unusual when something like this happened. Once Sam was sure Bucky was safe to leave for a moment he ducked across the hall into the bathroom and brought back a cool wet washcloth and glass of water. He made Bucky drink then gently wiped his face while Bucky glared at him. 

Sam wasn’t sure what to do next but Bucky’s hair was loose still so he reached over and combed it away from Bucky’s face, like he’d been doing earlier. Initially he intended to find a hair band to pull it off Bucky’s face but he realized after a few minutes he’d gotten lost in the feeling of it, the heavy air in the room, the white noise of the fan. Bucky had tipped his head back, leaning into Sam’s touch. Finally, Bucky pulled his head up which snapped Sam back to the moment. 

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked in barely a whisper.

“Hmmm? Right.” Sam said, embarrassment creeping in, “Sorry.” He pulled his hand out of Bucky’s hair.

Bucky turned and opened the drawer of his nightstand, which was within reach, and pulled out a hair tie. He handed it to Sam and turned his body so Sam was behind him. Sam ran his fingers through it a few more times before gathering it into a loose bun. Sam had to resist the urge to touch Bucky’s bare back. But he did set his hand on Bucky’s shoulder for a moment, gently, and said, “I’m sorry.” He tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible. The last thing he wanted was for Bucky to think Sam was disappointed or for Bucky to feel like he’s let Sam down. He was maybe a little disappointed but mostly he felt bad for Bucky. 

Without turning, Bucky said harshly, “Well, that went worse than I imagined.” He coughed out a pained laugh. Then, softer, he said, “I’m sorry, Sam.” He turned then to face Sam with sad eyes, “The slap…I remembered something… bad memory.” 

“You want to tell me about it?” Sam asked.

Bucky shook his head, “I will…not now.”

Sam couldn’t help himself then, he’d been touching Bucky so much more than he normally did, it felt like the natural thing to do. He wrapped his arms gently around Bucky from behind and squeezed in a soft hug. He felt Bucky exhale and relax. Sam loosened his grip and started to pull back but Bucky reached up and held him place, closing his hand around Sam’s wrist. “I’m sorry I threw up on you,” he whispered.

They stayed like that and eventually Sam asked, his mouth close to Bucky’s ear, “You going to break my arm?”

“Nah. I’d just tell you to stop,” Bucky answered. But he didn’t tell him to stop , and they stayed that way with Sam’s bare chest pressed against the sweaty skin of Bucky’s back, both men smelling vaguely like vomit. And Sam didn’t dwell on the want curling in his stomach and he didn’t let himself ask if any of this was weird. 

Sam ended up washing a load of laundry , hauling the rug from his room out behind the house and spraying it down with the hose, and quickly showering again. Bucky stayed quiet, but close to Sam. Finally, while Sam was making another lunch for Bucky which this time was a bowl of cereal and two plums, Bucky told Sam what he’d remembered. Right before he’d been wiped the last time, he’d recognized Steve. He knew Steve and they wiped him because of it. He remembered knowing that Steve was important and that he was about to lose that information. And that it was going to hurt. It always hurt. There had been a slap that time. 

It was still oppressively hot out, but there was now a breeze and the trees in the yard hissed and stretched through the window. They got a text from Steve that afternoon, checking in, and Sam sent him a photo of him and Bucky sprawled out on the living room floor, fan billowing the edges of their clothes. They were watching Netflix on the laptop, propped on a pillow between them because it was too hot to rest it on either of their stomachs. Bucky smiled for the photo, for Steve. 

Bucky paused the show on the laptop and rolled onto his stomach so he was looking at Sam, still on his back, melting into the floor. He just stared, unsmiling, at Sam.

“What?” Sam asked.

Bucky didn’t say anything, just looked at him with big sad eyes.

“You have to tell me what you want. What? You want me to get up and get you…a popsicle? A pop tart? Your book?” Sam asked, sleepily. He would, too. He would peel himself up off the ground and get Bucky whatever he wanted. He was, for his own peace of mind, going to attribute that reflex to guilt over what happened earlier and not anything else.

“Let’s finish the list,” Bucky said, pushing himself up to his knees, still looking down at Sam. 

“I uh…” Sam started to refuse but Bucky cut him off.

“The slap thing was a fluke. I’m not… I don’t think I’m going to throw up on you again,” Bucky said still pleading with his eyes. Then, because he could tell that wasn’t working, he said “Steve’s coming back tomorrow. Please Sam, I just gotta know, one way or the other.”

Sam shut his eyes and swallowed the guilt and pushed himself up. This time the guilt was that he was going to do it, even after it had gone so spectacularly badly earlier that morning, because he really wanted to. He could tell himself that it was about helping Bucky regain his bodily autonomy, and it was of course, but he wanted to keep going too. He wanted a reason to touch Bucky in ways he didn’t usually. This time they went to Bucky’s room.

Bucky’s room was half the size of Sam’s, under the eves of the house with the roof sloping on one side of the room so you could only stand between the door and the bed. They had the one window open and the fan on, but combined with the temperature, Sam had to shake off momentary claustrophobia. There wasn’t a rug on the floor or chair for Sam to sit in, so Sam leaned against the edge of the unmade bed. 

If anything, Bucky’s nerves seemed worse than the first time.

Bucky had stripped off his shirt and was scowling, kneeling in the middle of his room. He was holding his body still with force but Sam could see his shoulders quaking. Sam resisted the urge to reassure him. They were definitely beyond that. 

“What do you want me to do?” He asked thickly, in full awareness that the man on the floor was the one in charge of the situation.

“Choke me,” Bucky said, looking up.

Sam nodded his head and stepped forward, finding it hard to speak. He didn’t do it right away, instead he started with running his fingers through Bucky’s hair like he had before which seemed to ground both of them, if not to the world, at least tethering them to each other. He ran his fingers lightly up and down Bucky’s neck, which drew out a gasp from Bucky’s lips.

Sam was full of want which felt…dangerous.

He did it though, he rubbed Bucky’s neck harder and pressed where he’d read he was supposed. He stopped Bucky from breathing. He watched Bucky’s eyes widen and counted in his head… and there was nothing but sadness. 

Sam dropped his hands to his side. 

Bucky’s shoulders shook harder. Wordlessly he grabbed Sam’s wrist and pulled his hand to his mouth. He pressed the pads of Sam’s fingers to his lips and gently traced them. Sam could hear his own heart pounding in his ears over the wind in the trees out the window, the gusts growing progressively louder. Bucky’s tongue darted out and touched Sam’s finger tips. Bucky let go of Sam’s wrist slowly so Sam would hold his hand in place and and he looked up at him.

Sam already knew that it was going to go badly from the way Bucky’s body was tensing and from the previous attempts but he did it because Bucky’s eyes were asking him to. He slowly slid his other hand into the hair at the back at Bucky’s neck, tightening his grip enough that he was holding Bucky steady, and then slid two fingers gently into his mouth. Sam could tell Bucky tried really hard not to flinch.

Sam let go of Bucky and stepped back. Bucky made a panicked sound and leaned forward, chasing Sam with his body. 

“No. We’re done,” Sam said.

“Sam?” Bucky pleaded. He reached out and brushed his palm over the front of Sam’s shorts, lightly rubbing the erection Sam had since walking into Bucky’s room.

“Don’t,” Sam said, more harshly than he’d intended. Then he sat on Bucky’s bed and laid back, shutting his eyes. “This isn’t working. I’m not going to keep hurting you. I’m not going to let you…” He couldn’t bring himself to say out loud “use me wanting you against me.” Because Sam knew that had been what Bucky was aiming for.

Bucky didn’t say anything, just rocked back onto his heels and looked at the floor. 

“Why….why do you want to keep going anyway?” Sam asked propping himself back up partially, on his elbows, so he he could see. 

Bucky was sad, really sad, and also embarrassed. He sighed and stood up and collapsed on to the bed next Sam, “Sorry.”

Sam sighed, “Don’t apologize. But really, explain it to me, why do you want to keep going. We answered your question, right?” Sam really wanted to understand. 

“I thought about it all the time and I wanted it. This was exactly like I imagined…only…”Bucky tried to explain.

“I think…” Sam started then started over, “I’ve heard you tell Steve that you aren’t the same person, that the old Bucky died and you are someone new who just has some of his memories.” Sam wasn't sure he believed that, in fact, he was pretty sure he didn't, but the important thing was that that was how Bucky thought about it. Bucky waited, breathing steadily next to Sam. In the distance Sam could hear thunder faintly. “It makes sense you are different now. Is it bad that you are different?” Sam asked. Then Sam had a different thought and frowned a little, “Maybe it’s me? Maybe when it’s someone you like and not just practice-” 

Bucky cut him off with a snort. 

“What?” Sam asked.

“You are someone I like,” Bucky said, softly. “I wouldn’t have asked you if you weren’t.”

“I know,” Sam said softly too, “but I mean when it’s someone you want to…date… and not just a friend-“ and he was cut off again.

“Sam. Hydra slapped me and dragged me around by my hair and choked me and cut me and it never did anything for mean. I mean…obviously, I think thats what…what…ruined this. I’m… It wouldn’t have worked if you weren’t someone I…wanted doing it,” he tried to explain.

“It didn’t work,” Sam said flatly. 

“Yeah but it could have,” Bucky said sighing back into the bed. 

“You asked Steve first,” Sam pointed out. 

“I asked Steve first to get it out of the way, so he wouldn’t have hurt feelings,” Bucky told him flatly. 

They stopped for a moment as they could hear thunder, still in the distance but definitely louder. 

“Should we get up and shut the windows?” Bucky asked, dully.

“No.” Sam said firmly. “Stay. We’re talking about this.” He was trying to process what Bucky was telling him but was having trouble. His pulse was still racing and he could feel the storm coming like pressure in his head and most of all he was hyper aware of shirtless, sweaty, sad Bucky inches away from him on the bed. “Explain this to me. Why… why is it so bad that you aren’t turned on by pain anymore?”

Bucky rolled on to his side so he could look at Sam and his eyes were still full of hurt. He shrugged with one shoulder, “Just another part of me that’s gone for good… I thought that…because I imagined this and…”

Sam took a deep breath and decided to jump in. “You thought about being slapped and choked by someone and…jerked off?” He ventured.

“You. I thought about being slapped and choked by YOU…and jerked off,” Bucky corrected.

Sam processed this. 

In for a penny in for a pound. “Okay,” Sam said, “Why does it have to be pain?”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked, confused.

Sam sighed and said what he knew he could still retreat from, but just barely, “If getting off is the goal… could we try something other than pain?”

“Like what?” Bucky asked. 

Sam wasn’t sure if Bucky was intentionally being obtuse or if this was one of those instances that his brain had been rewired in an unpredictable manner by years of torture and brainwashing. Sam could feel defeat rolling off of Bucky. Sam didn’t think he was being manipulated at that moment. 

Sam ventured, “What if we expand the parameters of the experiment to ‘getting you off be any means’?”

Bucky rolled onto his back and covered his eyes with one arm. “Like what?” he asked again, less flatly.

Sam laughed in spite of himself. It was a choked sound that surprised even him. “Come on man, there are a few obvious things…” When Bucky didn’t respond, Sam continued, “Did you like any parts of what we were doing? Any of that working for you?” It was a rhetorical question, Sam already knew the answer. 

This time the thunder sounded like it was just down the road. The wind gusted so hard that the fan tipped over, unplugging itself, and the curtains blew horizontally. Sam knew he could reach over and run his fingers through Bucky’s hair, drag the back of his hand along his neck and shoulder, and show him, but he wanted Bucky to say it. 

“I liked…” Bucky started, “I liked you touching me gently…I liked your body close to mine… I liked…I liked knowing you would stop if I said to…”

This time the thunder clap was so loud that Sam felt the old house shake. Bucky’s body jumped and Sam instinctively reached over and laid his palm on Bucky’s chest. He meant it as a comforting gesture but Bucky’s body tensed and he sucked in a breath. Sam could feel his heart pounding.

“Old Bucky would have liked you doing all of the things on the list,” Bucky said, eyes still covered.

“I think I would have liked old Bucky. But I know I like the Bucky you are now…Can I help you figure out what you like right now?” Sam asked. He knew that was the line he couldn’t retreat from. This was just like when he was sparring with Bucky. His heart was in it. He was putting it all out there and he knew that where this was headed, Bucky would see exactly how Sam felt, if he hadn’t already.

“Okay,” Bucky said in almost a whisper.

The clouds broke open and rain poured down outside the window. Rain blew in through the window in bursts, getting Sam and Bucky wet. It was cool on Sam’s too hot skin. 

“Okay,” Sam said, sitting up on the bed. He reached for Bucky’s arm and pulled him up to sitting and didn’t let go of him. And just like before, it was just the two of them, and the rest of the world ceased to exist. Bucky’s body was quaking again and his eyes were locked on to Sam’s. Sam pulled their bodies toward each other and leaned up and kissed Bucky’s forehead and brushed his hair back from his face. When the shaking let up, Sam asked the question he was afraid to ask before when Bucky was driving but now with his fingers in Bucky’s hair he no longer felt afraid, “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Bucky nodded and Sam felt that nod as warmth in his chest. His breathing hitched and he licked his bottom lip and leaned forward. He cupped the back of Bucky’s head with his hand tangled in his hair, and kissed Bucky as softly as he could. Bucky didn’t respond at first, just stared at Sam and Sam panicked for a moment before Bucky’s body got with the program and he kissed back. It was like a switch being flipped. Sam could feel Bucky's body remembering that soft could be good, that there was pleasure in gentle touches and sweet kisses.

That feeling in Sam's heart grew and waves passed through his body and he knew it wasn’t just desire, desire was there too, but this was something else that Sam didn’t want to deal with right then. Instead, he grabbed onto the resulting realization that he really did first and foremost want to figure out what Bucky liked. He wanted to make Bucky feel good and was okay setting aside what his own body wanted. All of these thoughts passed through his head and he felt like he needed to say all of them but he knew it would be too much, so he pulled back, still cradling Bucky’s head with one hand, and gently cupped his cheek with the other. Bucky was holding the front of Sam’s shirt in a balled up fist and all the fear was gone from eyes. Sam softly told him the truth, “You were right, I have been staring at your mouth, but it was because I’ve been thinking about kissing you since Germany.”

Bucky grinned. “Kiss me again,” he ordered softly.

Sam grinned back and gave him a quick peck on the lips and leaned over to kiss down his neck, biting gently and sucking and licking until Bucky whimpered and Sam pulled back. Bucky’s eyes were huge and dark and his body had completely relaxed. He let go of Sam’s shirt and rested his hand on Sam’s waist and leaned his forehead on Sam’s shoulder for a moment.

“Is this okay? I can stop,” Sam told him.

“Don’t stop. Please, Sam.” Bucky said softly, catching his breath and lifting his head up. He gave Sam a shy smile. 

The frantic pace of downpour of the storm front slowed to a steady rain. Sam and Bucky slowed down and took their time with touches and kisses and more touches and the experiment to get Bucky off through any means was a success and had the bonus result of Sam getting off as well. 

——

Later, they were sprawled on Bucky’s bed and the rain had stopped and the sun was back out but a cool breeze was blowing in the window. Sam wasn’t sure if Bucky was awake still he’d been silent for so long so he reached over and trailed his finger tips up Bucky’s side in a move designed to tickle. Bucky popped one eye open and grabbed Sam’s hand and pinned it to the bed so he’d stop. 

“So…” Sam said, clearing his throat, “I guess we did that experiment… answered that question. So now…what?” He didn’t want to put any pressure on Bucky, but he needed to know if this was a one-off, if things were going to go back to how things were before. He needed to know how much touching was going to be appropriate once they got out of bed and needed to start working through that in his head.

Bucky opened both eyes and rolled onto his side so his face was inches away from Sam’s. He still had Sam’s hand in his but now it was more like holding and less like pinning. He rubbed Sam’s palm with his thumb. “I’m a mess… I’ve got a lot of issues. I don’t think there is any way one experiment is enough. I think…lots of experiments…maybe a longterm project?” 

Before Sam could say anything, Bucky had climbed onto of him, straddling his waist and pinning his hands above his head. He was looking intently into Sam’s eyes, trying to read Sam. “I mean,” he concluded, “if you want it to be?”

“Yeah,” Sam said thickly, getting lost in Bucky’s eyes “ I want it to be.” And he knew then that he wasn’t keeping anything out his expression when whatever Bucky saw there, made Bucky’s breath catch in his chest. 

“Oh. Fuck,” Bucky said low, almost a moan, still looking down into his eyes. And Sam seconded that feeling. 

And then something else occurred to Sam, and the change in his expression made Bucky let go and sit up, still straddling Sam. He looked warily at him and around the room like they were about to be ambushed.

Sam said, “We’re going to have to tell Steve.” And then then the look on Bucky’s face reflected what Sam imagined was the panicked look on his own. 

——

It was early evening when they got out of bed. There were pools of rainwater under all of the windows on the west side of the house. Sam, who’d stopped Bucky from getting up and shutting windows, cleaned up the water with all of the towels he could find and then tossed them in the washing machine. He was relieved to find Steve had shut his bedroom windows before he left - he’d probably looked at the weather forecast - and his room was dry. 

While they were still in bed, he and Bucky had gotten nearly identical texts on their phone from Steve, telling them that the mission had been successful and anti-climatic and he was safe and sound and would see them in the morning. Sam texted back that the heat had broken and Sam could finally make Steve lasagna for dinner. He wasn’t sure what Bucky texted, but it was brief, if Sam had to guess, he’d guess a string of emojis. Bucky thought emojis were hilarious. 

Now that the rain water was wiped up and he’d determined no permeant damage had been done, he wandered into the kitchen to find Bucky sprawled in a kitchen chair, legs stretched out, staring into space. His hand rested next to an untouched glass of ice water. Sam walked slowly up in Bucky’s direct line of sight, and was about to start talking softly, his patented “Don’t startle Bucky so he doesn’t accidentally kill me” move, but he didn’t need to. As soon as he saw Sam, he straightened up and gave him a nervous lip-biting smile. A blush spread across his cheeks. Then he shook his head like he was clearing it, reached for his glass and took a drink. Sam reached out for the glass and Bucky handed it to him and Sam took a drink. 

“Huh,” Sam observed in recognition of Bucky’s uncharacteristic sharing without snark. 

And right then Sam knew Bucky had it as bad for Sam as Sam did for him.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, and blew the air out of his lungs and rubbed his face with both hands.

And Sam knew Bucky knew Sam knew.

“Well, both of us is better than just me,” Sam said and smiled warmly, then set down the glass on the table and leaning over, kissed Bucky on the top of his head. “What do you want for dinner?” he asked. 

After they had eaten and were doing the dishes together at the sink, Sam’s brain worked back around to Steve and he asked Bucky, “Do you think that Steve was just giving us space? You don’t think it was anything else do you?”

“Like what?” Bucky asked, his arms plunged into the soapy water, scrubbing a pan.

“I don’t know…like maybe…he has feelings for you?” Sam offered.

Bucky made a pffft sound. “Listen, sweetheart, if that was what it was, it wouldn’t be me… it would be you.”

Sam dropped a fork back into the sink incredulously, “You know…” Sam started intending to elaborate on the lengths to which Steve went, and dragged Sam along with, to track down and bring back Bucky.

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky cut him off before he could begin, “But I gave him lots of opportunities…years of opportunities. That scrawny asshole broke my heart over and over.”

This was new information to Sam and Sam wondered whether this would be new information to Steve.

When they finished the dishes, Sam was drying his hands and was contemplating offering to bake Bucky cookies or something else equally ridiculous when he realized Bucky was staring again, this time at him and in a focused and calculating manner. 

Sam narrowed his eyes at him, “What?”

“I think..” Bucky said tipping his head to the side and definitely looking at Sam’s crotch, “I think maybe if you hold still…” and then he was pressing Sam up against the cupboards, dropping to his knees. He looked up at Sam and gave him a crooked grin, “I think if you hold still… and don’t touch me…” Bucky had unbuttoned and un zipped Sam’s shorts and was starting to slide them down when he frowned for a moment and looked back up and added, “if you want?”

Sam reached behind himself and held onto the counter and had to take a steadying breath. “Milkshake”, he growled out. 

Bucky huffed a laugh and told him, “that’s mine, you have to find your own word.” Then Bucky pulled out Sam’s half hard erection and licked it and Sam squeaked out a strangled, “oh, god, Bucky.” Bucky looked up again, this time innocently, “that will work, I am better than milkshakes anyway.”

And Bucky figured out how to do it without triggering anything. And because Sam couldn’t touch him, he spewed out sweet words although half of them were nonsense, and once Sam was getting close, he reached down and pulled Bucky up gently by his arms. Bucky’s cheeks were red and his pupils were blown and Sam had to think of aerodynamic dive calculations for a moment to keep himself together. As soon as talking was safe again he asked Bucky if they could go back to bed in Bucky’s room and Bucky agreed. 

Sam’s room still smelled like vomit.  
——

The ride back to the house with Steve the next morning was surreal. Sam and Bucky had agreed that if Steve asked how the experiment went, they’d tell him right then, otherwise, they’d wait until they were back home. Sam didn’t think any violence was going to occur but just in case, it would be safer to wait to have the conversation until Bucky wasn’t driving. Steve didn’t ask during the drive, just filled them in on the mission and news he’d picked up from Nat. And hints she’d dropped about where she was heading next after returning Steve. 

Steve had been on edge the whole way, only half paying attention to the story he was telling. Bucky and Sam exchanged more than one concerned look. Sam really didn’t know what was up. He figured it wasn’t Hydra-related or justice department related because Steve would have just come out with that. The two worst case scenarios his brain could generate were either that Steve and Nat had uncovered a new terrible atrocity Bucky had committed, or…and it was telling that these were equally terrible in his head, Steve had figured out that he was in love Bucky. Sam had no doubt how that would turnout. Honestly, he wouldn’t blame either of them, theirs was already an epic romance spanning a century, just missing the romance part. He knew that side-by-side, what he and Bucky had just discovered didn’t compare.

They didn’t have to wait long after they got back to the house. Steve was a making a funny face and turning progressively darker shades of red and finally blurted out, “Can I talk to Sam alone, for a minute?” Sam realized with a jolt that Steve had also waited until they were out of a moving vehicle to say whatever he needed to say. Bucky shrugged, picked up his book from the side table next to the rocking chair and headed up the stairs. 

Sam sat on the couch. Steve sat in the rocker and opened his mouth but nothing came out. Sam waited but Steve was silent. “Steve,” Sam said in what he hoped was a reassuring voice despite the adrenaline already rushing through his system, “just say it, or you’re going to have a stroke.”

Steve ran his hand over his hair and looked at Sam with those earnest blue eyes and said, “Sam, I didn’t understand at first, I couldn’t understand how pain could be anything but bad. I didn’t understand how Bucky could want that… or how it could be…good. But I talked to Nat about it and she explained it. She explained that there is so much more than pain. I shoulda done reading, like you, then I would have understood.”

Sam was nodding his head. This was okay, if Steve’s big admission was that he was wrong, this would be simple to deal with.

“Anyway, I want you to do it for me too,” Steve said and suddenly was out of the chair, dropping himself to his knees in front of Sam.

And, shit, this was not simple. This was suddenly very, very complicated.

Steve looked up at Sam and rested his hand on Sam’s knee, “It’s not the pain part, it’s the control part. I just want… I want you to tell me what to do Sam. Please?” 

Steve sat back on his heels and pulled his hand off Sam’s knee and crossed his wrists behind his back and sat very still. Sam wondered if that was something Nat had told him he should do. 

“Sam,” Steve said, pleading in his voice, “you said, when I asked you why you were agreeing to…hurt Bucky, you said… you said because you’d do anything for him, just like you would for me.”

No wonder Nat had opted for a quick drop off in a field, instead of landing in a more secure location and coming back to the house. She was giving Steve the space to talk to Sam and Bucky, or just Sam, because Bucky wasn’t there. Sam was still silent, wrestling with guilt that Steve was asking for something Sam probably couldn’t give him now, and if he was honest, a little desire, but mostly shear panic, when all of sudden Bucky was there. 

“Wow, Stevie, you look really good like that,” Bucky growled, low and dangerous, from the doorway of the stairs. Sam was pretty sure he’d pretended to go up and instead sat on the stairs and listened the whole time.

Steve went rigid and his cheeks flushed red but he didn’t say anything, or turn to look at Bucky, just kept looking at Sam. Then Bucky was standing behind Steve and giving Sam a sweet smile. Sam smiled back and hoped that Bucky hand a handle on the situation, because Sam did not. 

Sam was a terrible dom. 

Bucky leaned down so he was talking softly to Steve right at ear level, but so that Steve couldn’t see Bucky unless he turned, which he didn’t. Sam wondered if this was also something Nat had told Steve or if Nat had not told him any if this and Steve was operating on instinct, which was a wild thought. 

“Stay still. Don’t talk,” Bucky told him. Then Bucky was sliding onto the couch next to Sam and pausing for a minute studying Steve Sam could tell he was making sure this was okay, that Steve was enjoying this. Sam could tell Bucky saw what he saw, because Bucky’s soft smile turned into a sharp grin. The look on Steve’s face was part desperation to please and part slack-mouthed arousal,

Then Bucky leaned over and cupped Sam’s jaw gently, turning Sam toward him, and leaned in and kissed him. It was deliberately slow for Steve’s benefit. Sam heard Steve’s sharp intake of breath. Bucky licked into Sam’s month and sucked on his lower lip, pulling back inches to look Sam in the eyes without letting go. Bucky was obviously making sure everyone was okay with this. He leaned in and kissed Sam again, this time filthy and Sam knew it was for his benefit and not Steve’s. 

Sam could feel the adoration Bucky poured into the kiss, and the look he gave Sam after. It was so tangible he could float away on it. He had no idea what he had done to deserve it, but he wanted it. He wanted to earn it.

When Bucky pulled back a second time, Sam looked quickly over at Steve whose eyes had grown huge in surprise but who was more turned on than before based on his dilated pupils and tenting shorts. Sam could have gone down the checklist he had in his head the day before of what to look for in Bucky to indicate “yeah, this is working”. As much as that had not worked for Bucky, this was working for Steve. 

“Steve,” Bucky said, but continued to look at Sam, “I really like Sam.” Bucky bit his lip and tilted his head thinking, like he had the night before, and continued, “I think I’m going let him fuck me tonight and if you are good, you can sit quietly in the corner of the room and watch.” Bucky turned more fully away from Steve so only Sam could see his wink. Sam knew the wink meant that he was saying it now for effect but it was totally a discussion they were going to have in private later. Steve whimpered and honestly it was possible Sam whimpered too.

Bucky had succeeded at melting both Steve and Sam into puddles of goo in minutes, Steve with his words and Sam with a kiss.

Sam realized three things in quick succession.

Sam realized that he was correct about Bucky and exhibitionism. 

Sam realized that Bucky and Steve had been missing a key piece in order to get together, and somehow, amazingly, it was Sam.

Sam realized that for having just learned the word, Bucky was an amazing dom.


End file.
